“And earn yourself a night in the cellar,” I answered. “Keaton told me that’s what they do if you really screw up. All the masters spend the whole night working over one slave. It was a night like that when Roy died.”
“Sounds like you two had a lot of time to talk,” Joe said.
“Yeah, we were in bio together. Andrew is usually his lab partner, so I am while we’re here,” I explained.
“He say anything else of use?” Joe shoved his sneakers off without bothering to untie them and let them fall to the floor.
“Just that Roy earned his private night in the cellar by screwing up on ironing Liam’s shirts. There was a crease that Liam claimed Roy had put in one of them on purpose.”
“Liam so didn’t seem like a guy who’d go off about something like that today” Joe said. “Like I told you, I got one push-up from him.”
“Yeah, but you don’t have a girlfriend he wants,” I reminded my brother. “You don’t have any girlfriend.”
“I like to spread the love around,” Joe shot back.
“Right.”
“You doubt me?” Joe exclaimed. “You actually—”
He stopped in midsentence. I didn’t have to ask why. Keith was shouting, almost loudly enough to make the walls shake.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses, David!” I heard him scream. “I don’t want to hear one more word. In fact, get your socks off and get them in your mouth. Then give me jacks until I tell you to stop.”
Joe sat up. He shot me a look. “Do you think Keith knows David has asthma?” he asked.
“Both socks!” Keith yelled from the hallway. “Now start ’em up.”
“We’d better get out there,” I said. “Exercising while being gagged with socks would make it hard for anyone to breathe. Forget about an asthmatic.” I threw open the door, and Joe and I rushed out.
David was doing jumping jacks in the middle of the hall. Keith was setting the pace by calling out, “One, two, one, two.” He was really making David work. David’s face was already turning red, and I could see beads of sweat forming around his hairline and on his upper lip.
“Get a good look,” Keith told me and Joe, pausing in the counting. “This is what happens when you aren’t able to follow simple instructions.” He whipped his head back toward David. “Don’t slow down, meat. You do, and you’ll earn yourself a night in the cellar you’ll never forget. One, two, one, two, onetwo, onetwo, onetwo.”
One of the socks in David’s mouth started to come out. Keith used two fingers to jam it back in, shouting out the count for the jumping jacks the whole time.
I wanted to knock Keith to the ground. I wanted to jam his own socks all the way down his throat. But I just watched. Joe and I just watched. Because we had to act like good little servants, at least for now. It was how we were going to find out what really happened to Roy.
Joe elbowed me and nodded to the staircase. Mr. Diehl was coming up. Perfect. He’d shut down Keith.
Except he didn’t. As I watched, he turned around and headed back down the stairs. And he’d seen what Keith was doing to David. I was sure of it. What was his deal? He’d made such a point of telling me and Joe that we didn’t have to go along with anything we didn’t want to.
But then there was that blind eye thing …
A door opened down the hall, and Douglas and one of the other masters walked out. Douglas’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of David. He was looking bad. His face wasn’t just flushed now. It was splotchy—some parts an angry brick red, and some a sickly pale.
“Hey Keith,” Douglas called. “We’re going to watch the Knicks game we TiVoed last night. You coming? It looks like the meat has been tenderized enough.”
“Aw, is Dougie feeling sorry for the little servant?” Keith asked in a baby voice. “I don’t think Dougie’s daddy would like that. Dougie’s daddy wants his little boy to grow up strong.”
For a moment Douglas’s face started to look almost like David’s—a horrible mix of pasty and deep red. Then he swallowed hard. He moved closer to David and watched him with cold eyes. “What’d he do, anyway?” Douglas asked Keith.
“He got me a blue toothbrush,” Keith answered.
“What a moron!” Douglas exploded. Spittle flew out of his mouth as he continued to shout. “Everyone knows you hate blue. Totally everyone!”
It was like something in his brain had snapped.
“Give me a squat between each jack,” Douglas commanded David.
“Good one!” Keith exclaimed. He slapped hands with Douglas. Douglas grinned.
And David began to wheeze. With every breath he took. Was he about to have an asthma attack?
“Listen to the guy,” Joe said loudly. “How out of shape is he? A few minutes of exercise, and he’s gasping for air.”
I thought I knew what Joe was doing. I just hoped it worked.
“Yeah. You private school guys are kind of wimpy,” I added. “You wouldn’t last a day at our school.”
“Let’s see how tough you two are. Get your socks off your feet and into your mouths and get moving,” Douglas ordered.
Keith laughed. “Yeah. Join the party, boys.”
I noticed the thud-thud of David’s jumping jacks slow down as I pulled off my shoes. Keith and Douglas didn’t seem to notice. Neither of them shouted at David to keep moving.
Perfect. That meant Joe and me joining the “party” was giving David a little bit of a break. Joe’s plan had worked.
I shoved my socks in my mouth. I was very glad that—unlike my brother—I change my socks every day. I was betting Joe was chomping on at least three days of foot crud right now.
I started doing the jumping jack/squat combo. And I made sure to do it badly. Wobbly on the squats. Doing the jacks way too slow. Joe gave a performance that was just as bad. We had Keith, Douglas, and the other master right in our faces. Screaming at us to shape up.
Out of the corner of my eye, I shot a quick glance at David. He looked better. Less like he was going to collapse at any second.
“All right! That’s it!” Keith finally yelled. “Get yourselves to your rooms and wait for more orders.” He turned to Douglas and the other master. “Let’s go watch that game. We can at least see part of it before we have to go to dinner.”
The three of them headed for the stairs. David got his socks out of his mouth first. He jerked an inhaler from his pocket and took a long suck.
“You okay?” Joe mumbled as he spat out his socks.
“Yeah. Or I will be.” David took another pull on the inhaler. “Thanks to you two. That was pretty stupid of you, by the way. You were pretty much begging for an all-night session in the cellar,” he told us. “And that’s something you really don’t want,” he added as he headed toward his room.
I walked back into Joe’s and my room and headed directly for the dresser. I needed a new pair of socks.
“You’re putting those back on?” I asked as I spotted Joe putting his drooled-on socks back on his feet.
“I’m taking a shower before the dance,” he answered. “I’ll put clean ones on after that.”
Unbelievable.
“What did you think of that Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde routine Douglas pulled out there?” Joe continued.
“Keith knew exactly how to work him,” I commented. “All he had to do was say that Douglas’s dad wouldn’t approve of Douglas taking it easy on a servant—and wham. Like you said, Jekyll to Hyde.”
“Seeing him with David, it wasn’t that hard to imagine Douglas pushing Roy until he had a heart attack,” Joe said.
“I thought Douglas and Keith were going to let David have an asthma attack right in front of them,” I agreed.
“Let him? Forget about let him. They were going to make him have one.” Joe tied his sneakers.
“At least you thought to have them get focused on us. That was smart, bro.” I tied my sneakers too.
“We had to do something. It’s not like Mr. Diehl was going to.
Can you believe him?” Joe asked. “He practically ran back down the stairs when he saw what Keith was doing to David.”
“And after he made it sound like we could go to him for help.” I shook my head.
“He might not have been that much help even if he had come up,” Joe said. “Did you end up having a class with the guy?”
“Huh-uh. Why?” I asked.
“He’s one of those teachers that nobody pays attention to. Guys were playing hangman. Liam was doing that drawing of Emma. Somebody was snoozing. And Diehl didn’t even say anything to anyone,” Joe answered.
“Let’s go upstairs and talk to him,” I suggested. “Maybe he knows something about what really happened to Roy. Maybe that’s why he made such a point of telling us we didn’t have to go along with anything we didn’t want to.”
“So he might know that hazing led to Roy’s death. Or even that somebody killed Roy—and didn’t even say anything.” Joe rolled his eyes. “That is extreme wimp behavior.”
“Yeah, but so is the behavior you saw in Diehl’s class today, right?” I asked. “He couldn’t even tell a kid to wake up and pay attention.”
“You’re right. Let’s get up there.” Joe led the way into the hall and up the stairs. We quickly found the door with Mr. Diehl’s name on it and knocked.
No answer.
“I guess we’ll have to come back,” Joe said.
“Or …”
“Or we could possibly find out more if we go in and have a look around when Diehl’s not there,” Joe finished my thought.
I tried the door. Unlocked. So we went on in.
Joe headed for the desk. I headed for the filing cabinet in the corner. I wanted to see if Diehl had files on the guys in the dorm. But the cabinet was locked.
“Anything interesting over there?” I asked Joe.
He held up a bottle of prescription medication. “Diehl takes BuSpar.”
“That’s an anti-anxiety med,” I said.
“He also smokes.” Joe pointed to a pack of cigarettes on the desk.
“What’s in the notebook?” I asked. I nodded toward the thick, worn notebook next to the cigarettes.
Joe opened it and did a quick flip-through. “Jackpot! This is all about hazing. It’s a record of everything that goes down between the servants and the masters. Listen to this.”
He began to read. “November third. Another cellar night. One of the worst so far. The masters found rats someplace. Maybe a pet store. Maybe they trapped them. They tied the servants’ hands and feet together. Then smeared peanut butter on them. And left them down there. With the rats.”
I could almost feel the rats running over my own skin. Those little claws. And those teeth. The sharp, yellow teeth. “We got off easy last night,” I commented.
“Yeah. Big-time,” Joe answered. He turned the page. “November fifth,” he began to read again.
“Wait. Skip to the night Roy died. February thirteenth,” I told him.
“Right.” Joe began thumbing through the pages, then froze. “Do you hear that?”
I listened for a second. “Yeah,” I answered. “Someone’s coming.”
Joe closed the notebook and put it back next to the cigarettes. He circled around in front of the desk, just as the door swung open.
“Oh, hello,” Mr. Diehl said.
“Hey. We wanted to ask you something, so we decided to come in and wait. I hope that’s okay,” I told him.
“Sure. Have a seat.” He waved at the chairs in front of his desk. Joe and I sat. “So, um, what can I do for you?”
I wanted to flat-out ask him why he’d ignored what Keith had done to David. Mr. Diehl had to know that David had asthma. That’s definitely something a teacher in charge of a dorm would know about a kid who lived in that dorm.
But that didn’t feel like the way to go. Sometimes it’s easier to find out what you need to know if you don’t ask directly.
SUSPECT PROFILE
Name: Geoffrey Diehl
Hometown: Oakland, CA
Physical description: Age 29, 5’9“, 190 lbs., thinning brown hair, brown eyes
Occupation: History teacher
Background: Former Eagle River Academy student, takes anti-anxiety medication, single
Suspicious behavior: Keeps careful watch on the hazing activities at the academy but does nothing to stop dangerous hazing.
Suspected of: Criminal negligence. Doing nothing to stop the death of Roy Duffy.
Possible motive: Afraid to take action against hazing because the academy administration encourages the faculty to turn a blind eye.
“We saw something we think you should know about,” I said. “Joe and I don’t like to snitch—”
“But we think we have to this time,” Joe jumped in. “Because somebody could die.”
“What happened?” Mr. Diehl asked.
As if he had no idea.
“Keith made David do jumping jacks with his mouth stuffed with socks,” I told him. “And David’s asthmatic. He looked this close to passing out.” I held up two fingers pressed together.
“That’s definitely something I need to know about,” Mr. Diehl answered. “You did the right thing to come to me. I’ll handle it.”
Right. Like he handled it when it was happening right in front of his face.
“I’ll inform the dean tomorrow,” he promised us.
But could we believe him?
9.
Psycho Boyfriends
Boarding school dances aren’t so different from public school dances. Still in a gym. Still a lot of crepe paper. Low lights. Bored chaperones. A bunch of couples dancing. But also herds of non-dancing males and herds of nondancing females, looking at each other.
“There she is,” I told Frank. “That’s Emma Whitley.”
“And I’m guessing that guy she’s glued against is Liam,” Frank commented.
“Wow, are you some kind of detective or something?” I asked.
Frank didn’t laugh. Most of the time, Frank doesn’t laugh at my jokes. That’s because Frank has no sense of humor.
Frank here. I’ve said it before, and clearly I must say it again: I have a perfectly fine sense of humor. My brother just isn’t funny. Now I’m out of here. This isn’t my section.
“So what’s the plan?” Frank asked. “We need to get Emma away from Liam at some point. She’s not going to want to talk about how much Liam hated Roy with Liam standing right there.”
“We need to stake out the girls’ bathroom,” I answered.
Frank raised his eyebrows.
The guy really doesn’t know much about girls. “Because your average girl goes to the bathroom about five times during a dance,” I explained. “It’s all about the lip gloss and the talking to the other girls. And it’s one place no girl brings her boyfriend.”
“Okay, let’s get into position,” Frank said.
We circled around the gym and stationed ourselves fairly close to the bathroom door. Plenty close enough to easily intercept Emma. But not so close anyone would think there was something wrong with us.
About two minutes later I had to go to the bathroom myself. Bad. There was something about watching one, I guess. “Be right back,” I told Frank.
I hurried into the guys’ bathroom and almost turned right back around. Mr. Diehl was totally tearing into Gabe. It’s bad enough to have a teacher go off on you. You really don’t need an audience.
But they’d both already seen me. So I did the best thing I could think of. I ducked into the nearest stall. That way, Gabe could at least pretend I wasn’t there. And, hey, I did need to go.
“Do you understand what I’m saying to you?” Diehl continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Cigarettes are filth and they fill you with filth. I don’t ever want to see you with one again. I’ll go straight to the dean if I do.”
Guess the administration didn’t encourage the faculty to turn a blind eye to smoking. But it struck me as odd that Diehl, a smoker hims
elf—I remembered the cigarettes we’d found in his office—would come down so hard on Gabe for doing the same thing. Just another case of the old “Do as I say, not as I do” routine some adults pull on kids, I guessed.
I heard Gabe mutter something. Then I heard footsteps and the sound of the door opening and closing. A few seconds later more footsteps, and the door opening and closing again.
Wonder if Frank had to start talking to Emma by himself, I thought as I washed my hands. If he was attempting to talk to Emma, he was going to be blushing and getting all tongue-tied.
I headed back out into the gym and over to Frank as quickly as I could, in case he needed an assist.
Nope. He was still solo.
I glanced over at the spot on the dance floor where I’d last seen Liam and Emma. Yep. Still there.
“Hey, you’re the exchange student guys, right?”
I turned around and saw a girl standing there. Short black hair. Beauty mark on one side of her mouth.
“That’s us,” I told her.
“Well, since you don’t know any girls around here, I’ve decided that you’ll be my charity cases,” she said. “Which of you wants to dance with me first? Oh, I’m Lil, in case you want to know.”
“I definitely would want to be first. And second. And third,” I answered. “But Frank and I aren’t supposed to dance. We—”
Lil rolled her eyes. “That ridiculous masters and servants game, right?”
“It’s not exactly … I wouldn’t … It’s not a game,” Frank managed to get out.
“Ignore my brother,” I said. “He’s been like this all night. He can’t stop staring at that girl.” I pointed out Emma. “He thinks he’s in love or something.”
Lil studied Frank for a minute. “Give it up,” she told him. “I’m sorry, but you just don’t look psycho enough for Emma. I should know. She’s my next-door neighbor at the dorm.”
Jackpot. I was hoping Lil would spill some info about Emma—since I couldn’t take her up on her offer of a dance. And how wrong was that, by the way? A cute girl actually asking me to dance, and I had to say no.
Hazed Page 5
